


Got the Moves

by fishpoets



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, New Year's Kiss, just pure unrepentant fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishpoets/pseuds/fishpoets
Summary: Loud music, cocktails, some dancing, and a kiss.The perfect recipe to welcome in the new year.





	Got the Moves

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, guys
> 
> enjoy this dumb thing
> 
> ♥

 

 

Hanzo sure is animated once he's got a few drinks in him, Jesse thinks, as the archer's hearty laughter shifts him closer into Jesse's side. The rec room is packed, with people and food and drinks and thumping bass, and there's three of them squeezed on to a couch meant for two. Jesse originally sat down next to Hanzo, but somewhere over the course of the evening Genji joined them. Jesse's ended up squashed between the archer and the armrest.

 

It's not very comfortable. Seeing as he's got the warm, solid bulk of Hanzo's body pressed tight against his, though, he can't rightly say he minds. Doesn't even mind the multiple elbows to the ribs he's received as the brothers' conversation has grown increasingly loud and gesticulatory, after one or two too many of Lena's experimental cocktails. It's more than worth being able to hear Hanzo's rough, low voice gliding over his native tongue, light with laughter and contentment.

 

Everything about him is far too distracting. Jesse's been doing a fair job of not staring, but he hasn't been paying much mind to his own conversation with Angela and Fareeha. When he finally manages to drag his attention back to them the two women are both watching him, their matching smiles amused and dangerous and sparkling with delight.

 

"Something on your mind, Jesse?" Angela asks, falsely sweet and innocent.

 

At least Jesse is already flushed from the heat and the whiskey, but he knows that no matter how cool he plays it, how well he hides his infatuation from this day forward, it's too late. He's done for. Never gonna hear the end of it now.

 

Fareeha's smirk grows wider. She opens her mouth, and he braces himself for the barrage of teasing about to be unleashed.

 

"Right, that's it!"

 

They jolt, heads turning as Genji explodes off the couch. He whirls around and points his finger at Hanzo with all the dramatic flair of a Shakesperean actor on opening night. "You have insulted my skills for the last time, brother!"

 

Angela's forehead creases in concern, but the line of Hanzo's body is still soft and relaxed, so Jesse reaches across and pats her hand. He can tell there's no cause for alarm – especially when instead of moving across into the freed space, Hanzo sinks further into Jesse's side. His idiot heart flutters in his chest, but it must be unconscious on Hanzo's part. All his attention is fixed on Genji.

 

"I stand by what I said," he declares, crossing his arms across his chest. "Do you intend to try and demonstrate otherwise?”

 

Genji brandishes his finger again, menacing. _"You will eat your words."_

 

The crowd parts. They gather in a circle to watch as Genji takes to the center of the floor and strikes a pose.

 

Jesse knows almost nothing about dancing. Not the kind that happens in nightclubs, at least – though he's pretty sure that Genji's idea of dancing should be disqualified from most clubs on the grounds of public safety. It must be breakdancing of some kind, he supposes, but Genji makes it looks more like a martial art, full of dramatic spins and flips in time with the beat, contorting his limbs in ways that shouldn't be possible. It makes Jesse's bad knee hurt just to watch.

 

Genji spins on his head, then drops to his side on the floor, legs crossed and head propped lazily on his elbow like he's done nothing more strenuous than take a nap.

 

The crowd explodes with applause. “Cor, why've you never shown us that before!” Lena cries, stars shining in her eyes.

 

Genji laughs as he pops up off the floor. “Thank you, thank you!” he crows, bowing. “I will be taking autographs after the show!” He turns back to the couch and tilts his head. “Well, brother?”

 

Hanzo lips twitch. “An adequate performance. Not your best.”

 

"Hah! You think you can do better?”

 

"I do not think it. I know it."

 

“When was the last time you even set foot in a club, _aniki?_ "

 

"Whoa, whoa, hold up a sec,” Hana interrupts, holding her hands up between them. She squints at Hanzo. “You can dance? _You?_ I don't believe it. Show us."

 

Hanzo lifts his chin. "I have nothing to prove to you," he says imperiously.

 

"Spoken like a true loser. A _chicken_." She props her hands on her hips, sticks out her elbows and flaps them back and forth. " _Ggo ggo! Ggo ggo!"_

 

Hanzo's brows twitch up his forehead, unimpressed, then even higher when Genji laughs.

 

"Come on, brother! Let's show these amateurs how it's done. Just like when we were boys, _ne?"_

 

Hanzo shakes his head and huffs a laugh. He loves to show off, but Jesse's learned that he can be intensely private about the most unexpected things. He wonders if this will be one of them, as Hanzo glances around at the group, all watching him hopefully. His gaze flicks across to Jesse's and for a moment it holds – and it's a gift, the best he's received this year, for Jesse to be able to see the last sliver of reluctance in Hanzo's dark eyes spark into determination.

 

He smirks. "Very well." The crowd cheers, Lena whistling loudly, as he gets up off the couch and strides over to join Genji. He frees his hair from its loosening tie. "Lúcio, something with a strong beat, if you would.”

 

For the first time that night, the room falls almost silent as the two brothers stand back to back, waiting for the music to start. Like they've practiced it a hundred times before.

 

Maybe they had, once. A long time ago.

 

The music kicks in, a thick, heavy pulse that shakes the room, vibrating through the soles of Jesse's boots – and then, in tandem, the brothers _move_.

 

Genji no doubt is impressive, but Jesse barely notices him. One sharp snap of Hanzo's wrist and he's transfixed.

 

He's always known the way the archer moves _does things_ to him; he's so mobile during training and simulations, and the way his muscles bunch with the strength required by the draw of his bow is impossible not to notice. This? This is something else. Despite his bulk he moves with such grace, all that raw power and force channelled into pure fluidity. Each twist and roll of his body is so smooth, so controlled. Sensual and seemingly effortless.

 

He tosses his long hair out of his face, strands sticking to the sweat glistening on his neck.

 

None of it compares to the smile on his face. Loose and relaxed. Young. Free.

 

Jesse's stupid heart clenches. A strong, long-fingered hand settles over his knuckles. When he looks over, Fareeha gives him a knowing, soft smile. He squeezes her fingers lightly between his own, and somehow manages to get over himself soon enough to applaud with the others when the brothers finish, back-to-back again with their arms crossed.

 

Genji dabs. Hanzo laughs and cuffs the back of his head, then looks up, pushing his hair back off his face. He pins Jesse under his gaze. "Why don't you get up here and join us, gunslinger?" he calls.

 

If it were just the two of them and Hanzo gave him an opening like that, Jesse would gladly risk taking a hit to his pride. As it is, with all these witnesses, he just chuckles and shakes his head. "Thanks for the invitation, darlin', but there's no way on God's green earth I can compete with a show like that."

 

Genji throws his arm over Hanzo's shoulder and leans on him. "Come ooon, McCree. If even my brother isn't going to sit and brood all night you are definitely not allowed!" He dodges away as Hanzo shifts to grab him in a headlock.

 

Now everyone's attention is on him. Jesse ducks his head from all those expectant faces. "Naw, I dunno..."

 

Angela leans forward in her chair, so far that Fareeha has to grab the back of her shirt to keep her in it. "Jesse," she announces, loud and triumphant, "dances like an old man."

 

Caught in the bend of Hanzo's elbow, Genji nods, sage and sadly resigned, while Lúcio's face drops in pure, unrestrained horror. Hana, on the other hand, looks like all her birthdays have come at once. "Oh, this I have got to see." She grabs Jesse's hand to drag him up from the safety of the couch.

 

"Hey – come on, now," Jesse protests, batting a giggling Angela's hands away as she pushes him forward. "I ain't old – Hanzo's a year older than me!"

 

"Age isn't a number, it's how you act," Hana informs him as she herds him to the center of the impromptu dancefloor. "And you, cowboy, are acting really old right now." She pokes him in the stomach. "Even _Jack's_ being less old than you."

 

Off to the side, Jack spreads his hands. “I can hear you, you know!”

 

Hana ignores him and pokes Jesse again.

 

"Oof, jeez." Jesse winces. "Alright, alright, I surrender." He straightens his shoulders and adjusts his belt buckle, hooking his thumbs behind it, and swallows down his nerves. "Ladies n' gents, let me introduce you all to a true country classic: the beautiful and dignified art of the line dance."

 

It's been years since he last did this, but luckily the only moves he remembers are pretty simple. Step, step, kick his boot heel to the floor, and back. He finds his enthusiasm as the crowd take up clapping; tips his hat at Fareeha and a flushed, giggling Angela, clapping off-rhythm.

 

When she's recovered from almost collapsing with laughter Hana slots in beside him and joins in, copying his moves – the cue for everyone else to crowd the floor again. Lena and Emily link arms and skip around in circles. Reinhardt sweeps Ana into a waltz, totally out of time with the music but completely in time with each other. Genji breaks out into the robot, and Hanzo... Hanzo slides into the space in front of Jesse and starts doing... _something_ , dropping low on his heels and punching his arms up and out to the sides, like he's pulling on a rope.

 

The dances are completely different, yet Hanzo echoes Jesse's movements as he steps from side-to-side. Sweat drips on his temples. When his eyes flick up to meet Jesse's, he smiles wide.

 

Too much. Too much. The comforting presence of so many bodies in the room is suddenly stifling, and tugging at his collar does nothing but make him more aware of the sticking press of his clothes. As soon as the song finishes, Jesse mutters his excuses and weaves away through the crowd.

 

Out on the balcony the air is blessedly cool, pricked with a chill blowing in off the sea. Blessedly quiet, too, once he gets the door shut behind him. He leans on the railing and pats down his pockets for a smoke before he remembers he's been trying to cut back. Oh, well. His lungs'll probably thank him.

 

Minutes pass; the clock ticks closer to midnight. The sweat under Jesse's clothes cools to an uncomfortable clamminess, but he's not ready to go back in just yet. His tolerance for parties ain't what it used to be. He needs a bit of distance.

 

Instead, the party comes out to find him. The door squeaks open behind him, heralded by a burst of high-volume euro-pop.

 

“There you are.”

 

The door slides shut, reducing the music back to muted bass. In the ten minutes since Jesse last saw him Hanzo's managed to lose his grace somewhere; when he walks over, his control is the over-careful sort of a man just becoming aware of how much he's had to drink. He's clutching a glass of water in each hand like concentrating on not spilling them is the only thing keeping him upright.

 

He bumps into Jesse's side, not an inch of space left for Jesus, and nudges him with one of the glasses.

 

“For you.”

 

“Thanks.” Jesse's throat is dry, but not because he's thirsty. He takes the glass anyway and sips at it. Hanzo tips his back and downs the whole thing in a few deep swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing under the strong curve of his neck. He finishes with a satisfied little sigh, wipes his mouth, then looks around them like he doesn't know what to do with his glass now it's empty. He ends up just wrapping both his hands around it like he does with his cups of tea in the morning when he's just woken up.

 

There's something childlike about the action that tugs at Jesse's chest. He looks away.

 

“You are missing the festivities, gunslinger,” Hanzo says, consonants softened with the barest hint of a slur. “Are you not a fan of Swedish electronica?”

 

Jesse snorts. “Can't say it's my favorite, no, but I came out for some fresh air, is all. You go have your fun; I'll be back inside in a moment.”

 

“Hm.” Hanzo sniffs, shuffles his feet a bit, then bends to put his glass down between them. “I will stay,” he says, blinking and holding the railing tight as he straightens.

 

“You don't have to wait out here with me, you know.”

 

Hanzo casts him an almost comically offended side-eye and wrinkles his nose. “Of course I don't.”

 

“..But you're goin' to anyway?”

 

“Mn.”

 

“Well alright then.”

 

For a few minutes they stand together in silence. Jesse polishes off his water. He bends down to put his glass on the floor where it won't get knocked off the edge – rescues Hanzo's too, while he's at it. Hanzo makes an indecipherable noise behind him.

 

Jesse raises an eyebrow and smirks as he stands back up. “You havin' some trouble there?”

 

“Ah, no.” Hanzo shakes his head. “I believe I am simply... feeling my age.”

 

“Feelin' the drink, you mean?”

 

A chuckle. “Perhaps.”

 

“What was in that pink cocktail Lena gave y'all, anyway? Thing was so bright it looked radioactive.”

 

“I have no idea. But it was pretty. And sweet.” Hanzo grins. “No doubt I will regret it in the morning, but right now I do not care in the slightest.”

 

All sorts of lines on the theme of _pretty and sweet_ spring to Jesse's mind. He bites them back, just lets himself enjoy the peace of the moment, the stars, the heat at his side as Hanzo leans his weight into him once more.

 

His dark head tips sideways, coming to rest on Jesse's shoulder, and eventually he falls so still Jesse wonders if he's fallen asleep standing up. He's about to nudge him awake, when he murmurs something into the cold air.

 

“ _Anata ga... hont_ _ō_ _ni suki desu.”_

 

How Jesse wishes he knew more Japanese than the dirty stuff Genji taught him. “Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't catch that.”

 

“Hm? Oh. It was nothing.” Hanzo lifts his head so fast he sways. Jesse puts a hand to his back to steady him. “We should go back in; it'll be time for the countdown any moment now.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He doesn't move his hand. Hanzo is so warm compared to the chill in the air, and he's not sure he's capable of moving even if he wanted to, not with Hanzo looking at him like that. His eyes are so dark, still sharp and intense despite the drink in his veins. Jesse can't stop staring.

 

The background rumble of bass fades, replaced by a cheer.

 

_10! 9! 8!_

 

A breeze stirs the loose, tousled strands of Hanzo's hair.

 

_7! 6! 5!_

 

He places his hands on Jesse's chest. Sways closer.

 

_4! 3!_

 

His eyes dip to Jesse's lips.

 

_2!_

 

He lifts his chin.

 

_1!_

 

As their lips meet, Jesse feels the spark of fireworks.

 

His mind goes blank. Everything that isn't the soft touch of Hanzo's skin or the scratch of his beard fades into insignificance; the painful thump of his heart is the only thing he can hear past the roar of static in his ears. Hanzo moans low in his throat. He presses in closer, coaxing entrance to Jesse's mouth with a hot swipe of his tongue.

 

His breath stinks of alcohol.

 

Jesse drags himself back to his senses. He cups Hanzo's jaw in his palm and eases him off.

 

Hanzo makes a disgruntled noise. “Jesse?” he rasps. It takes him a moment to open his eyes. He blinks a few times, slow and heavy-lidded, before his forehead wrinkles with a frown. “Oh.” He pulls back. “I... I apologize, I should not have...”

 

“Yes, you absolutely should've.” Jesse keeps hold of him and reels him back in before he can slip away. “Hanzo, I wanted it.”

 

Hanzo's frown deepens to a scowl. “Then why did you stop me?”

 

“'Cause right now my mouth tastes like Satan's asshole.” Jesse chuckles ruefully. “I didn't want to put you off comin' back for more.”

 

Hanzo snorts a laugh. “Crude.” He relaxes into Jesse's grip. “Though that is hardly an issue; I doubt mine is much better. I cannot tell.”

 

“See, that's the second thing.” Jesse kneads his fingers soothingly into the thick muscles of Hanzo's back. “You're kinda drunk as a skunk, sweetheart.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Hanzo complains. “You are being _noble_.”

 

Jesse leans in and presses their foreheads together. “I want you to want this,” he says quietly, “in your right, sober mind. I want you to remember it in the morning.”

 

“I'm not _that_ drunk.”

 

“And I don't want you regrettin' it when you wake up, like you might Lena's mystery cocktail.”

 

Hanzo lets out a sharp little sigh. “Would it assuage your fears if I told you I've been thinking of this for _weeks?_ How I have been dreaming of pushing you against a wall and _devouring_ you? And most of those times, I assure you, I was entirely sober.”

 

Heat spikes deep in Jesse's gut, tempered only by a giddy sweep of happiness. “Then it ain't too much hardship to wait a few short hours more, is it?” he points out, and grins when Hanzo tips his head back with an exasperated groan.

 

“Fine, fine. We will do this your way.” He scowls at Jesse from under his lashes, his eyes hot and dark as pitch in the starlight. “You'd better make it worth the wait, cowboy.”

 

“Oh, honey, I intend to, don't you worry about that.” Jesse strokes his fingers down his spine, relishing the way it makes Hanzo curve into him. “Now stop your griping. We can talk about this some more in the morning. And continue where we left off... after I've brushed my teeth, of course-”

 

Two calloused fingers press over his mouth. “Hush.” Hanzo leans into his side again, and it's simple instinct for Jesse to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “No more noise. You are hurting my head.”

 

Jesse kisses his forehead and rests his cheek on his hair.

 

In the room behind them their friends are singing and laughing, and in the distance, across the bay, the sparkling bursts of fireworks glitter the dark horizon in red and blue and gold.

 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” Jesse murmurs.

 

He's answered by a soft snore.

 

Jesse smiles and holds him closer. It's going to be a good year. He can feel it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> woops, forgot to provide a translation!
> 
> _anata ga hontō ni suki desu_ = I really like you


End file.
